


If You Want Me On My Knees...

by WhyDoIWrite



Series: Conversations in the Dark [3]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Challenge Cup, F/F, First Kiss, Girls Kissing, Late Night Conversations, NWSL, On a playground under the stars, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Semi-Public Sex, Swings and slides, They're supposed to be isolated but yeah right, What happens on the soccer field doesn’t stay on the soccer field, compliments, flirting on the field, late night walks, surprise visit, these are my confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoIWrite/pseuds/WhyDoIWrite
Summary: Sonnett’s always used compliments to throw people off their game, but now that she's on the other side of the ball from Lindsey, her compliments get a little too suggestive, perhaps a little too... gay.It's not her fault, really.  Lindsey in that black kit just... does things to her.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Series: Conversations in the Dark [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795090
Comments: 58
Kudos: 235





	1. In Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> In this alternate dimension, COVID didn’t strike down the Pride, and Sonnett flirts with Lindsey for 90+ minutes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Baby that red jersey, brought me to my knees. Oh but that black jersey makes it hard to breathe,” Sonnett sings, exaggerating a twang.

**Conversations in the Dark**

**(And Under the Lights)**

  
_You're a saint, you're a goddess,_  
_the cutest, the hottest, a masterpiece._  
_It’s too good to be true, nothin' better than you_  
_in my wildest dreams._

After the pining glances across the pitch that when caught, led to cautious smiles and winks, after the long-distance handshake that really, they probably shouldn’t have done, but solidarity outranked their respective badges, after the first whistle blew, there was this moment – a split second is more like it – when they both froze. It was in that moment that it finally sunk in. No going back. No more room for denial. That thing that happened in January was real. But as soon as that moment passed, the nerves were gone. 

For Sonnett, at least. It's just soccer. Soccer is soccer. Doesn't matter the team or the color of the jersey (though she had always been partial to the sky blue of Sydney FC because of the way it brought out her gray eyes and because she liked the hashtag) or the opponent. She’d known soccer since she was old enough to run without the bicycle helmet her parents kept putting on her because for a while there, she fell so often they were worried about brain damage. It’s. Just. Soccer  
_  
Force them wide. Keep them off their dominant foot. Don't dive in. Use your physicality. Be brave, but don't get a red_ (she's almost positive that last part was directed at her, but she wasn't looking at Marc when he said it, and technically, he could have been talking to Marta). _Listen to Ash_ (she'd think about it, but Ash is... questionable... compared to AD and Alyssa). _Push up as a line._ _Watch the bending runs. Don't forget, you're playing for the badge_. _You’ve got to have the mentality_ … she tuned out every time she heard that word.

Honestly, she hardly listened to what Marc was saying because it just wasn’t necessary anymore. He said a lot of the same stuff on repeat, and it was more bullshit concepts intended to inspire than actual instruction, she thought. She didn’t need external inspiration to get up for a game. Mostly, his words just jumbled up in her mind, so she pushed them out. 

But Marc aside, playing for the Pride made her feel like that cocky kid at FCS who blossomed into a cocky young adult at UVA, and she kinda dug feeling that again. She had missed it. She lost it on the National Team, not so much because of her lack of playing time, because really, she wasn't going to take Kelley's spot. Or Abby's. Or Becky's. It was just hard to be cocky going 1v1 against the likes of Rose and Alex day in and day out. She was too scared going #1 in the draft to walk into the Thorns changing room with that attitude; there was too much pressure that came with that distinction. She kinda got it back when she went to Sydney, where they not only appreciated her but freed her to _play_. Sometimes, she felt it in Portland, but more often than not, she felt stress above all else. Especially over the last year. Felt blame, but for what? It wasn't on her that the team scored one goal in the final six games of their season. 

And then they tossed her aside for something shiny and new.

But that cockiness came back in Orlando, mainly because she just didn't give a shit. She had no plans to stay. No loyalty to anyone, at least not on the level she had to Lindsey and Tobes and Sinc. Not a ton of respect for Marc, and she couldn't quite understand why Ash, especially, spoke so highly of him. Ali swore Sonnett would learn so much from him, but really, she learned more from Sinc yelling at her during a game and Kelley yelling at her after a game than she had from Marc and his staff. It didn't hurt that everyone went out of their way to welcome her, to make her feel wanted. She almost felt like a star since Alex wasn’t there. But really, playing in Orlando left her feeling free to play however she pleased on the Pride backline. It's not like they could do any worse than 9th place. _Whatever happens this season_ , Sonnett figures, _I’m at least an improvement._

Lindsey, on the other hand, seemed plenty nervous, judging by their texts and FaceTimes over the past few days. Whether it was the imaginary weight on her shoulders to have a redeeming tournament after the disaster of last season and the off-season trades, or the irrational fear in the back of her mind (Lindsey was always full of irrational fears) that this month of soccer would have some impact on her playing time in Tokyo a year from now, or the fact that she was playing against her best friend, Sonnett couldn't be sure. Didn't much matter; Sonnett got a kick out of it regardless.

She was about to get an even bigger kick out of it.

* * *

_“Baby that red jersey, brought me to my knees. Oh but that black jersey makes it hard to breathe,”_ Sonnett sings, exaggerating a twang to sound more like Thomas Rhett. For effect, of course. It always does something to Lindsey. She can tell without Lindsey saying a word _._ Her first chance since kickoff to be close enough to say anything to her former club teammate – the ball played out over the touch – and that’s what came to her mind. Followed closely by “If you want me on my knees, we can arrange for that after this tournament,” as she skirts past Lindsey. 

Lindsey breaks out into a fit of hacking coughs, the dryness in her throat making her feel like she’s going to choke.

In retrospect, maybe that last part was a bit too much.

Sonnett couldn’t help it. It just sprung to her mind and it’s not like she’s ever had a good filter. In all of her pre-planning on how she would throw Lindsey off her game with some more… intense and suggestive… compliments than she typically uses, that wasn’t one of them. That song just popped into her head when she saw Lindsey in black. She couldn’t help it really; black looked so fucking good on her. It really brought out the green in her eyes more than red or white ever had, made her tan look more golden. The sleeves were tighter around her shoulders and biceps, either the result of a different cut or Lindsey bulking up in the three months apart. Sonnett meant what she said, so she wasn’t going to apologize for it. She thought that Lindsey in red was as good as it could get (especially that red pantsuit); Lindsey in black was a whole different level of sexy. Under the stadium lights… mmm. And that part about being on her knees… well technically she meant that, too.

She puts a gentle hand on Lindsey's back, checking to see if she's ok. Immediately, Lindsey stands, jerking up from her hunched over position. 

“Altitude getting to you?” Sonnett asks with a smirk, knowing full well that Lindsey trains at a higher elevation. 

“What was that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

“Nothin’, you just look soooo sexy in black,” Sonnett shrugs, “so I thought I’d offer my… services. In case you’re interested. No pressure.” It’s not like she hasn’t joked about it before – after the unfathomable loss in Rio (as consolation), when they were drunk in France (to celebrate), when Lindsey was sad about Russell (for comfort). Maybe she was joking those times, or at least sounded like she was joking. She never let anything happen. It’s been awhile, but… well… apparently Lindsey found it funnier back then. Or maybe she finds in less funny on a field. Sonnett stays staring her down for an extra second before nodding back towards the ball. From that moment, Sonnett knows she’s in Lindsey’s head. It’s obvious, the way the blush spread across Lindsey’s cheeks, not even three minutes into the half. 

She could back down, but she’s having too much fun with it. _“You’re a saint, you’re a goddess, the cutest, the hottest, a masterpiece.”_ She keeps up with the singing because she knows damn well Lindsey loves it when she sings. Lindsey doesn’t look at her this time, watching as Kling throws the ball in to Morgan, but Sonnett sees her jaw _and_ fist clench before she breaks off in a diagonal run to the near post. 

She’s playing the six, providing Orlando with a more solid core where the Thorns are strongest. Without Hayley, Ellie, and Tobin, they’re far less threatening on the wings now. She knows she’ll never take Julie’s spot – hell, she’ll be lucky to get into the to center back – but it’s nice to play there now. It’s an important spot. Makes her a little cockier. Gives her that extra edge to say things she probably shouldn’t. It also should be giving her the chance to mark Lindsey more, except Lindsey has been spending a suspicious amount of time out wide over the last 20 minutes. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” Sonnett asks as Lindsey comes into the box for a corner. “You didn’t even let me finish my song.”

“Fuck off, Sonnett.”

“ _It’s too good to be true, nothing better than you in my wildest dreams_.” Sonnett croons. Van Egmond snorts. Kriegs makes a sputtering sound trying not to laugh. It’s really of very little consequence to her that those two are within earshot when she decides to keep this thing going. She was aiming for a smile that couldn’t be stifled, a brief moment to distract Lindsey just before the corner. She isn’t expecting the way Lindsey absolutely freezes as Kling plays the ball into the box. It sails through untouched. “Nice run,” Sonnett grins, and she maybe purposely brushes Lindsey’s shoulder as she pushes up the field for Ash’s goal kick.

Ok, maybe that was too far, Sonnett worries. It wasn’t a compliment. Teasing isn’t her M.O., especially when teasing in the middle of an intense game never comes off as good-natured. But that thought only lasts a second because Ash has played the ball back in and she has an objective. If Kelley were here, she’d tell Sonnett that there are no rules to this type of warfare; _everything_ is fair game. If she wants to sing love songs to Lindsey in the middle of the match, that’s her prerogative. If she wants to tease, that’s fine too. If she wants to offer her services, well, whatever it takes to win, right? _Man, I really make myself proud sometimes,_ Sonnett thinks to herself. She knows she’s funny. She kept a tally during isolation every time someone was asked the very important question – which of your teammates is the funniest? – on an IG live or Zoom. She’s up 4-2 on Rose. But sometimes, her comedic genius just comes out and it’s stellar. This is brilliant. Everything about Lindsey’s face is telling her that much. And if Lindsey thinks that by not engaging, Sonnett will eventually give up, she’s wrong. 

Yeah, being on the other side of the country fucking sucks, but she’s going to get 90 minutes of pure joy out of this.

Marta puts them up right before the half. It’s a beautiful work up and finish. Little drop ball from Syd. A cutback that gets Menges wrongfooted. Marta rockets it into the upper 90 with her left. Sonnett celebrates – screaming, pumping her fist, sprinting up the field and leaping on the pile at the top of the box. She catches Lindsey’s eye as she jogs back. There’s a glint of hurt in it, and Sonnett knows instantly that it’s not because the Thorns are down; that level of happiness used to be reserved for _her_ goals only. Her stomach drops.

* * *

If Sonnett went into the changing room at the break feeling bad about making Lindsey feel bad, she’s shaken it off by the start of the second half. “I liked those sweaty shorts on you better. The way they clung to your thighs, Mmmm!” Maybe she makes that sound like a moan.

“Sonnett!” Lindsey's voice sounds hoarse.

She had prepared that one ahead of time, knowing Lindsey would change at the half. The way it hits is perfection, Lindsey’s voice reaching a new octave. Sonnett winks and jogs away, wondering if Lindsey’s ever going to return the banter. And wondering why she hasn’t yet.

The first Pride corner, when she gets up to the top of the 18, Lindsey ends up next to her. And gets and elbow dug into her ribs for it. 

“Ow!” she shouts backing a step away, before returning to mark Sonnett. 

“Why are you marking me?” Sonnett says, pointy elbows keeping Lindsey at bay. “Go mark someone your own size! Get away”

“Not letting your sneaky little ass free in this box.” Lindsey knows how good she is at getting herself open and to the ball on corners.

“You just want to be near my ass,” Sonnett quips, and she turns, pressing into Lindsey. But it’s really just to roll around her and get free, which she promptly does, making that trademark front post run. The step she gets on Lindsey is enough, and no one picks her up as she comes crashing through the box. She almost scores on a header, but AD tips it over the bar. Lindsey’s face is bright red as AD yells at her for not marking tight enough.

Mark must have said something to Lindsey about staying more central at the half, because she’s around Sonnett all the time now. Sonnett takes advantage.

“God, I forgot how gorgeous your eyes are.” That draws a little smile from Lindsey and a shy ‘thank you’ that Sonnett certainly wasn’t expecting. 

“I think I could live forever in the hollow of your neck. When are you gonna cuddle with me again, Linessi?” She makes sure that last part comes out in a whine. Lindsey looks at her, blinking, like she’s considering the question.

“You are looking fit, girl!” Lindsey stutters through telling Sonnett she hired a personal trainer.

“That Georgia peach givin’ Kelley a run for her money,” she says from behind Lindsey, watching her get back to her feet after a tackle. Lindsey turns bright red.

The compliments just keep coming, and Sonnett keeps wondering when Lindsey’s going to get mad, going to tell her to stop. But she never does, so Sonnett doesn’t stop. 

And then she ends up next to Lindsey, marking a line of Thorns waiting to make a run in the box on Kling’s free kick. She uses that opportunity to hook her pinky finger around Lindsey’s between their bodies. Just a for a few seconds, long enough to see how Lindsey’s going to react. Lindsey lets out a hard breath. “I miss you, Sonny,” she whispers, not making eye contact. Sonnett’s the one who has to let go just before the ball is hit.

She takes it one step further on the next Thorns corner. “What are you doing?” Lindsey’s voice is strained through gritted teeth. 

“Marking you.” She really shouldn’t be. Lindsey is too tall for her. Seems like the risk is worth the reward of touching Lindsey’s side.

“You can’t hold onto me.” Sonnett makes no move to release Lindsey’s side from her grip. It’s tight, but not uncomfortable. It feels like… well it feels like what Lindsey maybe imagined it would feel like if Sonnett ever got up the nerve to grab her by the waist and pull her into a kiss. If she had ever imagined it. Which maybe she had a time or two. It feels good. It makes her feel lightheaded, but lightheadedness can be blamed on altitude. Except it really can’t for Lindsey. “You’re gonna get called for a foul.”

“Nah, I’ve perfected this,” Emily assures her, stepping into Lindsey, her hand hidden again between their bodies. “Ali’s been teaching me things. Grab the body,” Sonnett’s fingers dig into her “not the jersey, so when you go to make your run, you just don’t go anywhere for a sec.”

Lindsey thinks her knees might buckle on the spot.

A few minutes later, Ashlyn bobbles Sinc’s shot and Lindsey crashes through the center backs, volleying the ball into the back of the net. The connection her foot makes with the ball is just as hard as Sonnett remembers it. She loves the thud of a perfectly struck volley. She doesn’t even have to see it, she can just _hear_ if it’s clean or not. She rubs her head in her hands to hide the smile spreading across her lips and tries to look angry when she lets her hands drop back to her sides. Lindsey’s celebration is subdued – just a little fist pump – not the typical sprint across the field like it used to be, and a bunch of hugs. When she runs past Sonnett her eyes aren’t smiling. They’re not sad either. Sonnett thinks they look neutral, which kind of hurts her heart because Lindsey scoring is supposed to be happy. Lindsey is such an emotional player. This is just different for her in a way Sonnett doesn’t like. Her being traded wasn’t supposed to take away Lindsey’s joy.

At the hydration break a few minutes later, she passes Lindsey, and is determined to make her smile. “Couldn’t hit it on the half volley? Happy to help you celebrate it later if you want.” Lindsey sucks her lips in to hide her smile, but her dimples give her away, and so do her eyes. Her eyes always give away her smile. 

Three minutes into stoppage time, the Pride finally win another corner. It’s only their third of the game. Lindsey lines up against Van Egmond, knowing they’ll be looking for her height in the box. Sonnett takes a step like she’s going to make a diagonal run to the front post. Kelli bites, and Sonnett spins away, bending her run. She gets to the box just as Marta’s ball dips near the front post, hits it on the half volley, and watches it all the way into the back of the net. And then everything goes black as she ends up at the bottom of a dogpile. 

Game.

Winner.

The final whistle two minutes later is the sweetest one Sonnett’s heard since Parc Olympique Lyonnais. They won. They fucking won. She proved Mark and Merritt and anyone else who didn’t believe in her enough to keep her wrong. Yet all of a sudden, that thing that she thought was so important – proving herself – really isn’t anymore. Lindsey’s more important. They make a beeline for each other, oblivious to anyone else trying to pass around customary “good games” and elbow bumps and hugs. They meet at midfield, Lindsey waiting for her with open arms a few seconds before Sonnett makes it there. 

“That’s how you half-volley!” Sonnett exclaims before Lindsey pulls her in. “I don’t think we’re supposed to hug,” Sonnett mumbles into her sweaty neck, the salt gracing her lips. The hollow of Lindsey’s neck really is perfect. Suddenly, she feels shy. All of the things she said to Lindsey on the field hit her like a truck, the hug giving her the opportunity to process and realize she meant everything she said. That it was about way more than distracting the Thorns best player. And it feels weird to win, to be the reason Lindsey lost. In all of her… well it was relief more than excitement, honestly… she hadn’t stopped to think about how Lindsey would feel. Not many people on the Thorns hate losing as much as Lindsey.

“What are they gonna do about it?” Lindsey doesn’t let go. And Sonnett notices that she doesn’t sound at all upset. “You wanna teach me how to do that sometime when all this is over?” Lindsey asks, and Sonnett nods against her. Lindsey takes a deep, contented breath. “I’m so proud of you, Son. And I miss you. So much.” Lindsey can’t think of another time in her playing career when a loss has bothered her less. In all of her pre-Cup interviews, she had talked about wanting Sonnett to do well, against everyone but them, because she had to toe the company line. But now, in this moment, her arms around Sonnett’s shoulders and their sweaty bodies pressed together, hot despite the chill in the night air, she’s happy. After a loss, she’s happy because her best friend in the whole world is getting to experience what it feels like to be a hero. “I, uh, think you have some teammates waiting to celebrate with you,” Lindsey finally pulls away, but keeps Sonnett’s forearms in her grip. She doesn’t want to let her go. “Sonny, I- ”

Sonnett blinks at her, taken aback for a split second by the way Lindsey’s looking at her before she recovers and falls back into that place of cockiness. Lindsey misses her. Lindsey doesn’t want her to go. “I’ll FaceTime you as soon as I can, k? Prolly can show you my half-volley form in my room,” Sonnett jogs off before Lindsey has a chance to respond. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok but for real, if you want these one-shots (and oops, this one has a second chapter because it was too long) to be something other than Soran, leave me a ship and finish the sentence: Conversations in the dark...


	2. In the Hollow of Your Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re just gonna go for a walk in the middle of the night?” Lindsey asks.  
> “You’re like, what? Half a mile from me right now? They said we can go anywhere within walking distance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a fickle person and this keeps getting longer. So title change for the 1st chapter. Probably 4 chapters instead of 2. But stopping at 4. For real. It’s ruining my plan for one-shots. But such is life, and such is writing?

**Conversations in the Dark**

**(On A Playground)**

_If I never get to build my mansion in Georgia,_   
_Drive a sports car up the coast of California,_   
_If all I’ve got is your hand in my hand,_   
_Baby I could die a happy (wo)man._

Lindsey can’t wait for Sonnett to FaceTime her. Alone in her hotel room, showered and changed, she finds herself nervously pacing the small space, waiting for Sonnett to call until she can’t wait any longer. The Pride are staying in the dorms. They don’t even have to hop into vans to cross the highway to the hotel. There’s no explanation for why Sonnett hasn’t called her already and it’s causing her chest pains. This goes beyond missing her. All those things she said, they were just so…believable. She knows it’s Sonnett’s thing to distract her friends on the field. But this time was different. On top of that, the thought of Sonnett laughing and celebrating with her teammates makes Lindsey feel all kinds of conflicted – relieved that Sonnett’s ok, happy that she’s happy and getting the recognition she deserves, sad that it’s not with her, jealous that other people get the best of Sonnett. Because Sonnett after a win is something, but Sonnett after scoring a goal is peak.

She caves and picks up her phone.

“Hey, beautiful.” Sonnett’s smiling face fills her screen, and Lindsey wants to melt, until she realizes that maybe Sonnett’s just being Sonnett again. She’s walking down a hallway, carefree as can be. Happier than Lindsey’s seen her in what feels like a really long time.

“I’ve been all lonely in this room by myself,” Lindsey sounds a little hoarse from yelling all game, “waiting for you to call me.” She wants to kick herself. She _did not_ mean to say that. At all. Yeah she had been thinking it, but… God, she just misses Sonny so much that sometimes she can’t help the words that just come out before she can stop them.

Sonnett groans. The implications of those words, if they were anywhere else besides in the middle of a pandemic with insanely strict rules, she thinks she would probably head straight on over to Lindsey’s hotel because that voice – gritty and a little needy – is irresistible. And if something were to start happening between them, well… this time she doesn’t think she’d put a stop to it. The being apart for so long has made her feel so much more for Lindsey than she ever expected to. “Interviews. I had a ton of interviews with CBS, the Sentinal, and the thing for Secret and the post-game Google stuff. Sorry.”

“God, I am so, so proud of you,” Lindsey says sincerely. “That was such a nice goal, Sonny.”

“Learned from the best!”

Lindsey had no idea how much she missed Sonnett until she saw her today. She says as much, the words tumbling from her lips before she can even think about what it must sound like, probably whiny. Definitely desperate. Her mind running over all of the things that Sonnett said and she can’t help it.

“I miss you, too.” _Well at least she fucking finally said it back_ , Lindsey thinks. “Wanna hang out?”

It’s almost worse, her asking. “You know we can’t, Son.” Maybe this whole thing, seeing her but not really being able to see her is worse than the months of isolation. It certainly feels like torture now. Except for that hug. That hug was perfect. And her eyes were grayer than they are on a screen. And her voice was clearer. And that touch of their pinky fingers. That was everything. Electric. Magic. Lindsey can’t stop thinking about any of it. 

“We’re allowed to walk anywhere we want, so how ‘bout,” Sonnett clears her throat, “ _I’ll start walking your way, and you start walking mine. We’ll meet in the middle ‘neath that old_ …” Sonnett stops singing. “What kind of trees do they have here?”

Lindsey laughs. “I don’t know. Do they even have trees? I can’t see any from my hotel. It’s like scrub brush.”

“Hmph. Ruins my song,” Sonnett pouts.

“Why are you singing so much anyway?”

“Because I’m so happy I got to see you and touch you today. Best day ever.” Sonnett says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Lindsey beams at that. “Wait… are you serious though?”

Sonnett flops down on her bed on her stomach, propping her phone up against her pillows, and throwing her hands up in the air, this _of course I’m serious, why wouldn’t I be serious_? look on her face. “You busy?”

“Course not… but it’s almost midnight. And I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“ _You’re_ exhausted. _I_ have all the energy in the world still. I could play another 90 minutes. I could- ”

“We’re just gonna go for a walk in the middle of the night?” Lindsey asks.

“You’re like, what? Half a mile from me right now?”

Lindsey shrugs. Distance and directions have never been her thing. She spends the rides to the stadium distracting herself talking to her teammates so she won’t have to think about how Sonnett’s not next to her, not holding her hand.

“Would be a shame to be so close and feel so far apart. They said we can go anywhere that’s within walking distance,” Sonnett repeats.

“They also said we can’t socialize with other teams,” Lindsey argues, surprised that she’s actually considering this, but her protest is kinda half-assed because she kinda wants to be talked into this ridiculous plan. Sonnett’s right; they can’t be this close and not get to spend time together. It’s cruel.

“Yet there we were all up in each other’s business for an hour and a half. Stay six feet away from me if you’re worried then.” 

Like that’s going to happen. Not after all the things Sonnett said today. Not when she thinks Sonnett could have actually meant them. Not when Lindsey was so distracted and so turned on. She tried to ignore it. She tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. Until she went to the bathroom at halftime, and again after the game, and there was no denying it. That slickness wasn’t sweat. 

It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened even. It’s happened when Sonnett has walked around her apartment in nothing but a bra and shorts on. When she walks out of the shower in their hotel room in nothing but a towel, and then stays in that damn towel for like an hour, oblivious (or not) to what it was doing to Lindsey. It’s happened when Sonnett’s hand has been too high up on her leg or too low on her back where it lingers for what reason, Lindsey is never sure. When they’ve cuddled and Sonnett hand snakes under her shirt to drag her nails across Lindsey’s skin. Lindsey’s sure that was always meant to be comforting, to lull her to sleep, but it leaves her wide awake. It’s happened when she’s accidentally caught glimpses of Sonnett undressing in a changing room and when she’s caught Sonnett staring at her, eyes too low on her body, because both instances let her brain run wild. So maybe it’s something that has happened more often than Lindsey would care to admit. 

“Is it safe? To go out at night like this?” Lindsey wants to know.

“It’s freaking middle of no where Utah. Meet you at the underpass?” Sonnett says it like there’s no debate.

* * *

“Hi,” Lindsey says shyly as Sonnett approaches her in the shadows. It seems ridiculous to feel butterflies around her best friend, but today was the first time she’s seen her in person in 111 days. Not that she’s counted. Sonnett’s smile puts her at ease. “Now what, genius? We hang out by the highway?”

“There’s a park like three blocks that way,” Sonnett points to her right. “Saw it on the way in from the airport.” They walk side-by-side in silence, and every time Lindsey gets close enough to Sonnett to try to steal her warmth or maybe just to smell the familiar scent of her soap, Sonnett pushes her away. “Six feet,” she smirks. But when they get to the park, Sonnett takes her hand, helping her up over a midsized stone wall so they can take a shortcut to the playground. She chooses a swing and immediately starts swinging. Lindsey sits on one next to her, dragging her feet as she slowly rocks back and forth.

“I’ve really missed you,” she says quietly - again - because she does and because she needs Sonnett to know just how much she misses her.

“I know,” Sonnett replies, laughing at herself as she swings higher and higher like the child she still is. 

They swing in silence for awhile, listening to the sounds of the Killdeer and the crickets, and the wind rustling through the vegetation, until Lindsey can’t take it anymore. She needs to _know_.

“Sonnett? Those things you said tonight…”

“Too much?”

They were simultaneously too much and not enough and just right, Lindsey thinks. She drags her toe on the ground, stopping her momentum. “No… it’s not that.” She hesitates. “Did you mean them?”

“That you look hot as fuck in a black kit? Um, yeah.” Sonnett continues swinging higher.

Lindsey knows how good she looks in black. “Will you stop swinging!” Sonnett gives her a look… and keeps swinging. “No, I mean the other things.” Lindsey watches Sonnett’s eyebrows raise as she passes into the light of lamp casting a glow onto her face.

Sonnett slowly lets her momentum die until she’s come to a stop. She meant every one of them. She gets up and walks over to Lindsey, standing between her legs, hands on the chains of Lindsey’s swing. “Do you wish I meant them?”

Lindsey’s stomach drops, because she both wishes Sonnett meant them and is all but positive Sonnett meant them. “I um- I wouldn’t mind if- ”

Sonnett feels her pulse racing as she waits to hear what the rest of that sentence is going to be. But Lindsey doesn’t finish it. She just stares up at Sonnett with these longing eyes, like she’s frozen, like she’s scared, like she needs Sonnett to be the one who take this farther down the path they embarked on during the game. She leans into Lindsey, breath warm on her cold neck. She lets her nose trace along the muscle that leads from Lindsey’s ear to her collarbone. “If I stayed right here like this forever?” She feels Lindsey shiver against her, and her arms almost reflexively wrap around Lindsey’s waist. Even in the dark, she knows exactly where Lindsey’s birthmark is. The knowledge comes from years of memorizing every cut of Lindsey’s neck. She lets her teeth scrape lightly over that spot. “If I left a mark on you so everyone sees?” She knows she can’t. She knows it would give away their late-night tryst. But the way that Lindsey swallows so hard under her lips makes it nearly impossible to resist. 

“Son…” Lindsey whispers.

“If I were- ” she stops herself from saying it, changes course. “If I did this?” She unburies her face from Lindsey’s neck, tips her chin up, grazes her thumb across Lindsey’s chin. Sonnett brushes her lips against the younger woman’s and waits, so close, lips just hovering, until Lindsey can’t stop herself. 

She lifts her toe off the ground, the only thing that had been holding her back from fully letting herself fall forward into Sonnett, from keeping their lips from crashing together. And then it’s magic. It’s electric. Just like when Sonnett touched her earlier. Sonnett’s lips are slow and gentle against hers. Until they’re not, until they’re taut and slightly turned up and Lindsey pulls back to find a smile on Sonnett’s face. “What?” she asks, shaking her head and grinning right back. 

For all the words she had to say earlier, she can’t seem to find them right now. At least not ones that she wants spoken aloud. _I just kissed THE Lindsey Horan. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?_ She thinks about making a joke about complimenting her excessively a lot sooner if she had known that was all it would take to get a kiss. She thinks about complimenting her again. She thinks kissing her is way better than talking about it. She wraps her fingers behind Lindsey’s neck, pulls her closer, still on that ridiculous swing. She kisses her more confidently this time. Tugging on Lindsey’s lower lip with her teeth just a little, teasing with her tongue as Lindsey’s lips part. And Lindsey’s hands on her hips, almost insistent in the way they hold onto her and keep her there, feel so right.

They end up lying side-by-side on the dual slide, holding hands over the divider down the middle. Sometimes, Sonnett wriggles free to run her hand over Lindsey’s thigh. Lindsey tries to talk about anything and everything except how much she misses her, and when she can’t think of anything else to say, their shared playlist on Sonnett’s phone quietly fills the silence. 

“Did you see the sunset tonight? While we were playing?”

Sonnett checks her watch. “Last night. It’s tomorrow. Today. It’s Thursday.” 

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“No,” Sonnett turns towards her. “I was too busy watching you. The way your body moves. The way your muscles ripple. How your- ”

“Are we really doing this again?” Lindsey asks.

“What?” Sonnett says innocently.

“You complimenting me.”

“You don’t like it when I compliment you? I mean, it is what got us here,” Sonnett points out.

“I- I do I guess. I’m just not used to it,” Lindsey admits solemnly.

“Someone should compliment you every day. I nominate myself.”

Lindsey leans over and kisses her again, caressing her face. Sonnett is so good. So sweet and gentle and thoughtful and this really shouldn’t have taken so long. 

And yet that seems totally irrelevant now.

* * *

Before either one realizes it, the sky is starting to display that rose gold tinge. They haven’t stayed up all night together since the last time Sonny was in Portland.

“Fuck, Em. We’re gonna get caught.”

Sonnett looks at her watch. “It’s barely five. We’re ok. But I guess we should go. Walk you back?”

“I don’t wanna let you go,” Lindsey whines, pulling Sonnett into her.

“ _Baby, last night was hands down_ ,” Sonnett whisper-sings into her hair, “ _one of the best nights, that I’ve had no doubt. Between the bottle of_ … water?... _and that look in your eyes and the_ … Ali Gatie?” Sonnett chuckles at her own creativity. “Shit, we shoulda danced under the stars, Linds. Really missed an opportunity to play out this song.”

Lindsey can’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of Sonnett rewriting a song for them. But she also can’t let this moment slip by. “ _And I know that I can’t ever tell you enough_ ,” Lindsey continues the song. She hates her singing voice. So much. She’s good at a lot of things, singing (and dancing) are not on that list, but she doesn’t think that Sonnett will mind. “ _That all I need in this life is your crazy love_.”

Shocked doesn’t begin to describe what Sonnett feels. That Lindsey knows the words. That she’d actually sing. That maybe she _means_ what she’s singing. “ _If I never get to build my mansion in Georgia_.”

“ _Drive a sports car up the coast of California_.”

“ _Well if all I got is your hand in my hand_ ,” Sonnett kisses the back of Lindsey’s hand.

“ _Baby I could die a happy woman_ ,” Lindsey finishes the song.

“How do you even know that song?” Sonnett asks in disbelief. 

“Maybe your playlists have been on repeat?” Lindsey replies sheepishly.

“You know that’s _actually_ a country song, right?”

“Figures,” Lindsey rolls her eyes.

“I added the remix because I thought that was the only way I’d get you to listen to it.”

“I like your country music,” Lindsey admits.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I like to pretend that some of them are for me.”

“Hmm.” Some of them are absolutely for her. “Come on.” Sonnett pulls Lindsey up. “Let’s go.”

“You’re really walking me back?” Lindsey asks as Sonnett reaches up to help her back down onto the sidewalk. Sonnett doesn’t respond, but she kisses Lindsey’s cheek and doesn’t let go of her hand and that seems clear enough.

“Gonna get a coffee,” Sonnett says as they near the gas station by Lindsey’s hotel. “Want one?”

“You? Are going to drink gas station coffee?” Lindsey sounds incredulous.

“I mean, I don’t know if I’ll drink it, but yeah. To give my walk more credibility in case anyone’s awake.”

Lindsey nods. “Yeah, ok.”

“Where’s your mask?”

“I didn’t bring it.”

Sonnett feigns disappointment. “Number 1 Rule of Challenge Cup: Always have your mask. Failure. Wait here.” Moments later, Sonnett returns. “I got you a dark roast from Colombia. The beans probably weren’t ethically sourced. It’s a little acrid with,” she takes a whiff, “hints of citrus. Over brewed, but we didn’t really have high expectations. If you’re planning on getting any sleep, I wouldn’t drink it.”

They slowly cover the last hundred yards to Lindsey’s hotel, Lindsey purposely dragging it out. She has this overwhelming sense that she’s not going to get to see Sonnett again until this is all over. “Dasani?” she says quietly, gripping Sonnett’s hand harder as they near the rear entrance to the hotel. The sadness has returned to her eyes.

Sonnett doesn’t give Lindsey the opportunity to say whatever she was going to say, and for that, Lindsey’s grateful. “You got plans tonight?” She kisses along Lindsey's neck, one more time before they have to go.

“Free around eleven," Lindsey can't hide her excitement.

“Same place?” she mumbles against Lindsey's neck.

Lindsey knows it’s not going to be possible to keep doing this, especially before games, but she’ll take what she can get. She’s exhausted, not that she cares, but she’s thankful that it’s just a recovery day, and she’s got a little under five hours to try to sleep. _If_ she can stop thinking about Sonnett. She guides Sonnett's face back up, enveloping her lips, a little hungry, a little desperate, hanging onto the front of Sonnett’s sweatshirt.

Sonnett finally breaks their kiss. “K. See you in, a few hours then.” It feels incredible to be able to say that again, to have found a way to be this close to her.

Lindsey watches her walking back in the direction they came until she’s out of sight and then heads up to her room. Before collapsing on her bed, she tries the coffee. It’s… well not good is generous. She sets it down atop the dresser, snaps a picture, and adds it to her stories with the caption. **Starting to understand why @kelleyohara packs an entire coffee shop in her suitcase for road trips.**

As she’s walking back, Sonnett turns east to look at the sunrise. The horizon looks like it’s on fire. This place is amazing – even more so because of the person who’s just down the way from her – but still, amazing in its own right. She holds her coffee cup out and snaps a photo with the gorgeous combination of yellows and oranges and pinks and navy blues in the background, and adds it to her stories with the word **sunrise > gas station mud** It won’t post, her phone not picking up signal, so she slides it back into her pocket, knowing it’ll upload eventually.

Back at the dorms, she runs into Marta on the stairs. “Why you awake?” Marta asks, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Why are _you_ awake?”

“Stationary bike.”

“Walk,” Sonnett shrugs. 

Marta leaves her alone with a little “hmpf” and a shake of the head.

She collapses on her bed and checks her phone one last time before nodding off. She’s got a notification that Lindsey added to her story and a text from Kelley. She checks Lindsey’s first and promptly clicks on her own story – deleting it – when she realizes that she and Lindsey added photos with the same coffee cup at roughly the same time.

 _No one saw it, most likely_ , she thinks. It’s early. It hasn’t even been 10 minutes. She probably would have been able to convince herself of that if it weren’t for Kelley’s text.

 **Miss Kelley** : you two got coffee together?

 **Sonnett** : I don’t know what you’re talking about

Kelley sends a lovely collage of their two photos side-by-side with added hearts for effect. For an old person, she really acts like a child, but that’s not the point right now, so Sonnett keeps her thoughts on that to herself. 

**Sonnett** : it’s like the only place to get coffee that’s in walking distance. Seems like a coincidence.

 **Miss Kelley** : bullshit. Don’t you lie to me, Emily Ann Sonnett.

 **Sonnett** : Do you like, have notifications turned on for me or what?

night, Kel.

 **Miss Kelley** : GOODNIGHT!?!?!?

What did you do?

Why are you just now going to bed?

Answer me!

Sonnett flips her phone over and kicks off her shoes. Her phone dings again. She picks it back up, planning on muting Kelley for a few hours. It’s Mal. In a group text that includes Sam and Rose. And Lindsey. Of course it’s Mal. It’s normal people hours where she is in Atlanta with Dansby.

 **Mal** : oMG did you guys go on a sunrise coffee date. So cute!

Apparently, she didn’t get it deleted fast enough.

 **Sammy** : it better have been a socially distanced date

 **Rosie** : if you two fuck this tournament up!

But also, FINALLY!!!

 _God, they’re all awake_ , Sonnett groans.

 **Sonnett** : what are y’all talking about?

 **Rosie** : don’t play dumb

 **Sonnett** : I missed my friend. We walked to get coffee.

 **Rosie** : Didn’t invite me. Guess she doesn’t miss me.

 **Sammy** : or me

 **Mal** : Because it was a date. Did you kiss?

 **Sammy** : Sonnett, you better not have kissed her! We’re in the middle of a pandemic.

 **Rosie** : I bet Linds kissed her first.

 **Mal** : truuuuuuueeeee

 **Sammy** : Lindsey, we’re going to need you to weigh in on this

 **Linds** : fuck off

 **Mal** : she didn’t deny it

 **Sam** : she didn’t

 **Sonnett** : Some friends y’all are. Will text us about coffee but where were our congrats when we both scored yesterday?

 **Rosie** : changing the subject = suspicious

It occurs to Sonnett that she’s not going to get any sleep because they’re not going to stop.

 **Sonny** : Sorry Linds, I didn’t know you posted that.

 **Linds** : lol I thought you did it on purpose. I don’t care. I like giving them a hard time. Making them wonder. I don’t care if they know. I’m gonna mute them for now so I can sleep. Make them stew.

 **Sonny** : Same.

 **Linds** : miss you already

 **Sonny** : Miss your neck. Night.

It takes Sonnett awhile to fall asleep. She keeps staring at the ceiling, obsessively worrying and wondering why Lindsey kept singing that song when she knew damn well where it was going and what she meant by “if they know.” Know what, exactly? That it kinda felt like a date? That they kissed? That they’re what? Together? Are they? They didn’t talk about it. One night of making out doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Except it feels like it does because it’s Lindsey. Because there’s also going to be tonight. Maybe tomorrow night. Maybe after this tournament is over even.


	3. In Between Your Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picnic table. On a playground. It’s not exactly ideal for their first time.   
> Except under millions of stars in the Utah sky, it is ideal.

**Conversations in the Dark**

**(And Under the Stars)**

_We'll gain a lot of ground,  
_ _if we both give a little,  
_ _ain't no road too long,  
_ _when we meet in the middle._

Sonnett’s mouth quirks up in a smile when she sees Lindsey’s already at their spot, perched atop a picnic table. She’s early, which means Lindsey was even earlier, which means _someone_ is excited to see her. She observes the younger woman from a distance; her head is hanging, forearms resting on her thighs. Her shoulders are slumped. She’s wringing her hands. This tournament has been hard on her – physically for sure, her legs are beaten to a pulp – but also mentally. The Thorns are struggling to find their way; three games, three losses, no points. In danger of being the only team to be sent home early. Never before has the team been at the bottom of any table. Even Sky Blue has a point. Which means that if the Thorns don’t beat the former underdogs from New Jersey in two days, tonight is the last night they’ll see each other for the foreseeable future. Not even a tie will do it for them. But more than she hates the thought of not seeing Lindsey anymore, she hates how defeated Lindsey looks. How she takes the team’s failures on her shoulders, yet refuses any credit for their successes. She must be deep in thought; she doesn’t even see Sonnett coming.

“Hey,” Sonnett says gently, still a few feet away, trying not to startle her. As soon as Lindsey’s head snaps up, she can see the burden in her eyes. And then her hands are on Lindsey’s face, thumbs running over her cheeks, her lips, her chin, and Lindsey’s worry lines slowly fade, but even in the dark, the moonlight falling on Lindsey’s face is enough for her to know that Lindsey’s still not ok. “Hey,” she repeats, kissing Lindsey on the forehead, “it’s not all on you.”

Sonnett’s the only one who knows her this well, well enough to know exactly which thoughts are running through her head on repeat without ever having to say a word. 

“Linds, you don’t have any support up top,” Sonnett starts.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can only do so much. You’re carrying that team on your back and the offseason-”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Lindsey says more firmly. Sometimes, she hates how well Sonnett can read her. Like after they lost the Championship in 2018 and Lindsey was so desperate for comfort. She found it in a bit of alcohol and against Sonnett’s back and Sonnett knew exactly what she wanted without a word spoken. But Sonnett only kissed her hand and said, “You have a boyfriend.” Like in the hotel after the ESPYs, coming down from the biggest win of their careers and Lindsey felt like she couldn’t breathe, her mind a swirling mess of winning and not playing and the memories of Paris and the letdown of it all being over. Trying to process it all, the only thing she wanted to make her feel right again was Sonnett’s lips. Sonnett knew, but only kissed her cheek and reminded her, “He flew all the way to France to see you play.” Like right now, when Sonnett feels every bit of her depression and pain because she’s an empath. Lindsey hates it because she feels like she can’t escape. Sometimes, escaping seems like the only tolerable choice. Except this time, finally single, Sonnett can kiss her, can give her exactly what she needs in this moment. And because she knows, Sonnett doesn’t press her.

Sonnett wraps Lindsey in her arms, and Lindsey lets out a big sigh as she snuggles into Sonnett’s chest. That sigh is more symbolic for her, a way of forcing herself to let everything go because she’s running out of time with Sonnett and she doesn’t want to waste these precious moments thinking about soccer. 

“Baby,” Sonnett’s voice becomes even gentler than it already was and Lindsey doesn’t even know how that’s possible. The realization of what slipped from Sonnett’s lips hits them at almost the same time. She freezes, unable to even swallow. Sonnett draws a sharp breath in. It’s only been a few days. It’s too soon for that.

Except it’s not.

“Hmmm?” Lindsey asks, sliding her hand down Sonnett’s spine, determined to make sure Sonnett doesn’t have a small panic attack on the spot. Because for as brash as she can be when she plans it, accidental vulnerability – those slip ups – freak her out, Lindsey knows. Like when she accidentally said “I love you,” the last time she left Portland after packing up her apartment. There at the airport, sitting in Lindsey’s car, neither of them wanting her to get out. She hugged Lindsey, whispered it in her ear through tears, and then ignored Lindsey’s calls and texts for the next week.

It doesn’t work. “Sorry, Linds,” she mumbles, refusing to meet Lindsey’s eyes. She feels the heat rising in her neck, spreading across her face, and she’s never been so thankful for darkness before.

“Hey,” Lindsey turns Sonnett’s face back towards her, forcing the eye contact. She doesn’t let go of Sonnett’s chin, pulling her down and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I could get used to you calling me that.”

Relief washes over Sonnett, enough to at least allow her to perk up and change the subject, once again focused on Lindsey’s happiness. “Want me to push you on the swing?” 

Lindsey shakes her head. 

“Or go play on the slide?”

“No Son.”

“We could race on the monkey bars or we could play tetherball or we could dance under the stars or if you want me on my knees... that’s a standing offer,” she adds with a wink.

There it is. Lindsey bursts out laughing at Sonnett, trying to cheer her up in the only way she knows how, in probably the only way that could actually work right now – by being herself. Funny. Child-like. Suggestive. Everything but serious and sad, which Lindsey already has covered. “Yes. To all of it,” Lindsey throws her arms over Sonnett’s shoulders, unable to hide the admiration and adoration she has for the older woman. “Let’s do _all_ the things.” If this is going to be the last night Lindsey has with her for awhile, well, she can sleep on the plane home. Besides, with her superior upper body strength, she’ll kick Sonnett’s ass on the monkey bars, and there’s not much better for the soul than a smashing victory. Play heals all, and there’s no one better at it than Emily Sonnett.

She doesn’t kick Sonnett’s ass on the monkey bars. And it pisses her off. But pissed off is better than sad because pissed off gets her competitiveness going.

“This is bullshit. You’re lighter than me. And shorter. I had to hold my legs up to keep my feet from dragging.”

Sonnett just hangs there, upside down, from the monkey bars, unbothered, with a smug expression. Lindsey wants to wipe it off her face with a kiss.

She beats Sonnett at tetherball. It’s not even close, not once Lindsey gets the angle just right and hits the ball high enough that Sonnett can’t even reach it most of the time. Watching her jump and try though is entertaining. Sonnett demands a rematch. Lindsey can tell that she’s trying hard to keep her competitive spirit at bay, but it’s not exactly working. Her face is red, more with frustration than exertion, and she keeps huffing. And then the ball smacks her square on the side of the head. Lindsey falls to the ground rolling with laughter. Sonnett blinks hard a few times, hits the shit out of the ball, sending it spinning around the pole, and falls to the ground in laughter, too. She crawls her way over to Lindsey and collapses next to her. 

When Lindsey can breathe again, she props herself up. “Are you ok?” she asks, hesitantly touching the side of Sonnett’s face. “You don’t have a concussion, do you?”

“I’m fine,” Sonnett pouts, wondering if she’s going to have a lasting red mark on her cheek and how she’ll explain that away. But then she perks up. “It’s tied.”

“Oh, give me a fucking break. That win doesn’t count!”

“It most certainly does,” Sonnett says, rising to her feet and trying to drag a resistant Lindsey, who would have been content to lay next to Sonnett on that rubber playground surface all night, with her. 

“Come, on, Son, I’m tired.”

“Then forfeit.”

“Never,” Lindsey says defiantly.

Lindsey dispatches her in a matter of minutes. She doesn’t even have to work that hard at it, really, which frustrates Sonnett every more. After she’s done running her lap, arms outstretched like an airplane, around the playground equipment, she wraps Sonnett up in a hug, lifting her off the ground just a bit and swinging her around until she smiles. And just like that, it fades.

“Feels like we’ll never get to celebrate a goal like this again,” Sonnett says quietly as Lindsey puts her back down.

Lindsey searches her eyes. For everything she’s able to hide, to push down, to wall off, to mask with her humor and her exuberance for life, there’s always that brief moment where the truth slips out through a crack, and it breaks Lindsey’s heart. “We’ll just have to find other things to celebrate then,” she says, pressing a kiss into Sonnett’s lips.

“Come on, tired.” Sonnett tugs her by the hand back to the picnic table. They sit side by side on top, feet resting on the bench, bodies connecting at every point possible. Sonnett laces their fingers together and lies back with a groan.

Lindsey looks back at her, concerned. She went up to clear a corner yesterday and Ash came charging through, only calling her off when it was already too late. She crashed into Sonnett, and on her laptop, Lindsey watched as she crumpled on the ground. She felt so helpless in that moment. Not even Ali hovering over her until the trainer made it out could ease her mind. Her chest always hurt when she saw Sonnett go down, but that pain was a lot more acute when she wasn’t there. Just one more thing on the list of things she was going to have to get used to. But she got up – she always does – shook the trainers off, and went back in the next play. “What hurts?”

“Shoulder,” Sonnett mumbles, reaching across to try to massage the muscles over her scapula on her own. “Feels like I was in a car accident.”

“Lucky it wasn’t Alyssa then,” Lindsey jokes. “She hits like a truck. Ash is kinda..mmm… soft in the air. Lemme massage it.”

“If it were Alyssa, it wouldn’t have happened, because she would have called the damn ball as soon as it left Abby’s foot.” But Sonnett’s not going to argue about a massage. She sits up and moves to the bench seat, lowering herself down between Lindsey’s legs.

Lindsey’s hands are so strong on her aching muscles, working through the stickiness in her fascia and the knots in her rhomboids. “You should have let the trainers work on this,” Lindsey chastises her gently. 

“And miss out on having your hands on me? No thanks.” 

Eventually, she leans back into Lindsey, effectively stopping the massage, and looks up at her. “You’re extra beautiful under the stars.” She loves the way Lindsey’s smile becomes so shy when she compliments her. Sonnett turns around on the bench, still in between Lindsey’s legs, but facing her now. “I mean it, Linds. The way the moon casts that glow on your hair. You’re stunning.” She kisses the inside of Lindsey’s knee and Lindsey’s blood runs hot through her entire body. Sonnett’s so close, it’s so intimate, her fingertips trailing up the outsides of Lindsey’s calves. They’ve come close to crossing the line between friendship and more in the past, Sonnett always toeing that line, pushing it sometimes, but always staying firmly on the right side, even with a little too much alcohol coursing through her bloodstreem – until the other night. And now, they’re on the other side, but just barely, in a place where they could still jump back over before everything changes forever. Now it just seems like she’s waiting to see just how far from that line Lindsey wants her to take this. 

Sonnett normally wouldn’t be this confident, but there’s something about the way that Lindsey’s reacted to her advances, even when she masked them as jokes. Something about how desperate Lindsey’s been to see her, and how hard it’s been for Lindsey to let her go. How she’s looking down at Sonnett so hungrily. Sonnett’s close enough that she can smell that Lindsey’s turned on. She lets her hands slide higher, to the outside of Lindsey’s thighs, barely under the hem of her shorts. Her fingers leave a trail of goosebumps. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it gets cold at night in the mountains, even in July?”

Except it’s not. It’s in the upper 70s. Those goosebumps are all Sonnett, and judging by the grin, she damn well knows it.

“Tell me to stop,” she mumbles against Lindsey’s skin, serious again.

Lindsey’s never been the one to stop her before; tonight’s not going to be the first time she does. “I don’t want you to stop,” she manages to croak out, running her fingers through Sonnett’s silky hair.

She stands, moving to the end of the table, guiding Lindsey around with her until Lindsey’s legs are dangling off the table. She cups the younger woman’s face in her hands and there’s this moment before she kisses her again, this drawn out pause, where she can’t pull her eyes away from Lindsey’s. No matter how much she wants to let her mouth explore elsewhere, she can’t stop staring at this woman.

She lets her lips brush across Lindsey’s cheek, over her jaw, down her neck, back up to her ear, nibbling on her earlobe. Sonnett’s thumbs rub light circles into Lindsey’s inner thighs, creeping higher and higher. “Say it,” she whispers, and Lindsey shudders, pulling her in closer until she’s pressed in between her legs. Sonnett squeezes her hand in between them, running her fingers up Lindsey’s center over her shorts.

Lindsey bucks up hard at the sensation into her hand. “Sonny- ”

Sonnett kisses her into the table. Runs her hand down Lindsey’s chest. Pushes her shirt up, leaving little pecks across her abs and nibbles along her obliques until Lindsey is squirming under her. “Say it,” she breathes against Lindsey’s hip, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of Lindsey’s shorts and slowly dragging them down, Lindsey’s lifting to help her along.

“I want you,” Lindsey whines as Sonnett’s lips trail back up her leg and her tongue swipes at the soft skin of Lindsey’s inner thigh. She runs her nose up over Lindsey’s center, her underwear already soaked through and Lindsey moans, grabbing for her hands. Lindsey doesn’t see how she’s going to make it through this.

“Where?” Sonnett bites the top of Lindsey’s underwear, dragging them down just an inch, hands heavy on Lindsey’s quads.

“Fuck, Em.” Lindsey knows exactly what she’s getting at. But it still surprises her how willing she is to say it aloud. “I want you on your knees.”

It’s what Sonnett’s been waiting to hear, needing to hear. She isn’t sure why. Some combination of needing to have a little control over a situation where, despite her calculated actions, she feels out of control, and the need to know just how desperately Lindsey wants her. She doesn’t take her time to get Lindsey’s underwear off. Sonnett squats, knees cracking in the quiet of the night as she lowers herself to the ground. The grass is soft under her. Lindsey’s skin is soft against her cheek. Lindsey’s whimpers as Sonnett brings her closer and closer to the edge are soft, too. They're sounds she's never heard from Lindsey. As loud and arrogant as Lindsey is on the field, Sonnett is surprised by how quiet she is now.

A picnic table. On a playground. Sonnett imagined lots of scenarios where she’d finally have Lindsey on her back, legs thrown over her shoulders, but this wasn’t one of them. It’s not exactly ideal for their first time. 

Except it _is_ ideal. 

Because in the end, it doesn’t matter where or how or when. And being underneath millions of stars in the Utah sky while Sonnett’s tongue leaves Lindsey’s thighs trembling certainly doesn’t hurt. Not that she’s looking at the stars; propped up on her forearms, back arching almost uncontrollably, in the moments she can manage to open her eyes, she’s marveling at what Sonnett looks like on her knees in between her legs. 

* * *

“Sunrise,” Sonnett says gently. The sky is just starting to turn a dark blue, signaling the end of their time together. It feels like it’s been only minutes, not hours, that they’ve spent together, though Sonnett’s arm, acting as a pillow for Lindsey and now tingly from the loss of circulation would say otherwise. She couldn’t bear to tell Lindsey, to disturb her from the comfortable position she had found, tucked against the smaller woman. “Time to go.” She squeezes Lindsey’s hand as she sits up.

“But I didn’t get to dance with you.” Lindsey pouts, pulling Sonnett back down onto her chest. She hates dancing more than she hates just about anything, but right now, she’d do _anything_ to prolong this moment together.

“Next time.”

“Who said anything about next time?” Lindsey shoots back with a smirk.

Sonnett knits her eyebrows together. “Woman. I did not just have a one-night stand with you. There will be a next time.”

“Oh, you wanna keep me around for a while, huh?”

“For a long while.” Sonnett kisses her forehead.

“Son- ” Lindsey’s voice hitches and she can’t hide the ache, can’t finish her sentence.

“I know.” They’re both painfully aware that this game dictates whether or not they’ll be able to see each other again. And that it’s really likely that won’t see each other for the foreseeable future. Tonight will have been it. “Just… don’t think like that. Let’s live in this fantasy world for as long as we can.”

“But what if?” Lindsey can’t do that. She can’t pretend that it’ll be ok. “What if I don’t get to see you again?”

“Not possible.” She doesn’t know when. It may very well not come this tournament, but she’ll find a way.

The way Sonnett says it, so confident, eases Lindsey’s mind just enough. And she doesn’t bother arguing because she doesn’t have the energy. The tournament has been physically draining; the thought of going home is emotionally draining. She doesn’t know how it will work out since they can’t fly to each other, but Sonnett makes her believe anything is possible, so she plays along. “You gonna come visit me in Denver?”

“No.” It’s so matter-of-fact that it crushes Lindsey just a little bit. “You’re coming to Atlanta.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t been to my loft and there are rooms and countless surfaces that need to be christened. Your condo has already been defiled.”

“I- ” Lindsey bursts out in laughter.

“It’s true, you can’t fight me on that.”


	4. In Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the most important conversations take place without words. Sometimes, the most important things you learn are in the dark.

**Conversations in the Dark**

**(When Words Are Unnecessary)**

_I already know what you’re thinking_   
_Cause I know all of your secrets._   
_How you talk in your sleep_   
_Play those songs on repeat_   
_‘Til you know every single word._   
_What you hate, what you like_   
_I see all of your sides_   
_And the new ones I’m trying to learn._

_The way that your hair falls  
_ _in the morning when you first wake up_  
 _The way that I know all of  
_ _the weird things your coffee cup_  
 _I love the way_  
 _I know that you’re lying_  
 _The way that you’re smiling_  
 _Darling I love that I know you like no one does._

**Sonny** : wyd?

 **Linds** : About to go workout

 **Sonny** : Can you not right now I promise I’ll workout with you later?

 **Linds** : No

 **Sonny** : Linds. Pleeeeaaasssseee.

 **Linds** : I don’t care how many extra e’s you just typed. Still no. Every time you say you’ll workout with me, we don’t workout. I’m not doing another zoom “workout” with you ever again. But I will FaceTime you later and we’ll do whatever you want.

 **Sonny** : That’s tempting, but listen. Last time was not my fault. You were still in bed. 

**Linds** : I was tired.

 **Sonny** : I had a whole session planned.

 **Linds** : I would have done it with you but

 **Sonny** : But you were naked! How is this my fault?!!?

 **Linds** : Well. Sometimes I like to sleep naked.  
And the time before that was 100% your fault.

 **Sonny** : Stop wearing tanks with that chain! Your shoulders are just wow woman. And you know what? Get some bigger shorts because those red ones you had on, I just can’t with those.

 **Linds** : 🤷‍♀️

 **Sonny** : Anyway, I need you to work out later. For real.

 **Linds** : Can’t. Trainer date. I pay a lot for these guys.

Sonnett FaceTimes her.

She's about to tell Sonnett to stop being jealous of her trainers when she sees where she is. “Why are you at the Denver airport?” Lindsey screams so loud that Sonnett pops an AirPod out for a second. Their smiles are matching big.

“Guess I missed you,” Sonnett shrugs.

“But you said I had to come to Atlanta.” Lindsey still can’t believe what she’s seeing even though she’s been in that airport a hundred times.

“Well I waited. And waited.” Ok, so she waited three weeks, but it was a long three weeks.

“But you said that you wouldn’t come here because my place- ” Lindsey starts.

“I say a lot of things.” Lindsey should know that by now, really, Sonnett thinks. Besides, Sonnett figures she can just replace all the memories of him with much better memories of her. 

“You did not fly in a pandemic! Sonny, I want to see you so fucking bad you don’t even know, but do you have to quarantine? Because if you do, you should’ve just waited two weeks to tell me you were here. I can’t handle not seeing you!” There’s a desperation in Lindsey’s voice that she can’t contain.

“Yo, I’m a pj girl now,” Sonnett laughs.

“You did not.”

“If you ever, when we’re apart, doubt how much I love you, you better remember today.” Sonnett says it before she realizes the implications, before she can stop herself. And she didn’t say it, not technically, but she said it. Lindsey blinks at her, and even through the screen, it’s so obvious that Lindsey heard it and wants to know if she meant it, but Sonnett cannot do this on the phone. Not after she hasn’t done it on the phone in the three weeks since they saw each other last.

To her credit, Lindsey lets it go, swallowing down the lump in her throat because she doesn’t know if that was _it_ or if _it_ was an accident not supposed to be meant like that, and she doesn’t know if she’s supposed to say _it_ back. “Son, that’s gotta be so fucking expensive.”

“You have no idea. Can we discuss the state of my bank account later? I need you to come pick me up.”

‘Baby!” This feels like Christmas in August. It feels better than Christmas. It feels better than when she finally got to come home from Paris for Christmas in the middle of her first season with PSG. It feels better than when she saw Emily for the first time in 100+ days. “I’m literally walking to my car right now, but this would’ve been faster if you had just taken an Uber. Want me to get you one? Are you broke?” she jokes.

“Not funny.” She tilts her phone down so Lindsey can see the reason she can’t take an Uber. “So this was like a brilliant plan, you know? Flying private, I get to bring Bagel, cause there’s no way she’s going with the cargo. But um, yeah, dogs aren’t allowed in Ubers. So.”

“Ohmygod, I get to meet her!” Lindsey squeals. 

“Well I wasn’t going to get to meet Fergs without you meeting Bagel. Or leave her with my sister again, she’ll forget who I am. Also, if I don’t get that level of excitement out of you when you see me, I’m turning around and going back to Georgia.”

“You’re here. You’re fucking here. Like in the flesh here.” Lindsey can’t believe it. It’s like it’s not even real. Like she can’t possibly be this lucky. She was too nervous to hug Sonnett when she parked her car at the curb and got out to help with her bags, deflecting her attention to Bagel once she got them in the back of the car. It was a shit ton of luggage. She was too self-conscious to kiss her in public. But now, with Sonnett’s hand planted firmly on her thigh, like that’s just where it’s fucking always gone, Lindsey wants to touch her. Can’t take her eyes off her. Doesn’t think she can ever get enough of Emily Sonnett. She reaches over and caresses Emily’s cheek, her thumb fitting perfectly into that perfect dimple. 

“Oh my God!” Sonnett startles her out of it as Lindsey almost runs a stop sign. “Can you not kill us before we get to your condo? I mean, your view is not as good as mine, but your place is nicer and I’m kinda excited for my staycation.”

“Tell me you miss me,” Lindsey whines, eyes back on the road.

“Ask me how much it cost to fly out here.”

“How much?”

“Enough that you don’t ever get to wonder if I miss you ever again. I literally paid for all the ‘miss yous’ for forever.”

Lindsey chuckles. That’s never going to happen because she’s always going to want to hear that Sonnett misses her. “How much?”

“Enough that I’m not going home until this pandemic is over and it’s safe to fly like a normal person.”

“How much?” Lindsey laughs. 

“Enough that I was wondering if you can get me a Quest sponsorship? Or at least a lifetime supply because I can’t afford protein bars anymore.”

"How much!"

"You're not getting an engagement ring... like... anytime soon. I opened a separate savings account a while back to save for your ring. Figured I’d just use that to come see you instead. So we better take this slow."

Lindsey lets out a half chuckle at that because… well… the fact that that’s even in the realm of possibilities… like… ever…. seems kind of significant. “Shut. Up. How much, Sonnett?” Lindsey asks again, finally exasperated, because there’s a little part of her that wants to know exactly how much Sonnett spent on this ridiculous plan. For her. _For. Her._

“Mmmm…. Almost $8000.”

“What the fuck?”

“I know, right? Would have been cheaper if I could’ve convinced Mal to come back with me, but noooo, she wanted to stay with Dansby,” Sonnett feigns disgust.

“Sonny!!”

Emily shrugs. “This thing seems like it’s never going to end, what was I supposed to do? Besides, I owe you a dance. I mean, it’s not my fault your team went home early because – what did I tell you? The Torns are a dumpster fire.”

It doesn’t even bother her that her team is being insulted to her face. A dance. And Lindsey knows that’s not the truth, that Sonnett did not just drop that kind of money to fly across the country and surprise her for a damn dance under the stars, but Lindsey also knows that that damn dance under the stars was absolutely on her mind when she planned this. 

They’ve been apart longer, by far, although it was different then because they hadn't kissed. Hadn't slept together. Weren't anything more than friends, and friends can stay apart for years. They might even be apart longer in the future, Lindsey worries. But right now, this is the best thing ever. Or at least the best thing to come out of this whole pandemic. “You’re really gonna stay?” Lindsey asks, like she doesn’t believe she’s really this lucky, like this is just a short trip and Emily will be gone in a few days. It shouldn’t feel fleeting. But it feels fleeting.

“You want me to leave before the pandemic is over, you’re paying for a private jet.”

“I mean, you could fly commercial and just quarantine when you get back to the ATL,” Lindsey teases.

“Lol. No. Do you know how stir crazy I get?”

“What would you have done if I had been in the middle of a session? Sat at the airport and waited?”

“I don’t really think things through, huh?”

*****

It’s one of the things Lindsey likes most about her, how spontaneous she is, because Lindsey isn’t impulsive at all. She’s the opposite of impulsive. She’s an overthinker. An over-worrier. And Sonnett can be too, sometimes. In some cases, she’s far too pragmatic for Lindsey’s taste and that’s definitely contributed to why it took them so long to work this out, but Lindsey’s always appreciated the spontaneity.

The “Hey, let’s go get breakfast,” out of nowhere at 6:30 on a Tuesday morning because Sonnett was thinking about her. Or avo toast. Or both, Lindsey’s not quite sure.

The “I got us tickets for Melissa Etheridge at the Zoo,” without even asking if Lindsey had plans, because they didn’t have a game so there was no excuse worthy of not going to see the lesbian icon.

The closet full of clothes she bought because they are “so cool,” but she never wears any of the outfits.

The grocery cart full of things she just wants to “try,” because “look it’s black garlic, how have we not had this in our lives?”

The failed attempts to learn French, and then Spanish because French was too hard. Then piano, because “if Tobin can, I can,” and when that didn’t work, “do you think I could pick up chicks if I played the guitar?” “What like on the street corner with an upside-down hat for tips?” Lindsey teased her.

And the tattoo, because really, has there ever been anything more impulsive than that? Until now, at least.

Then again, this isn’t much different than the time Sonnett woke up and called Lindsey at 5:30 Denver time to say, “We’re all going to be playing in a World Cup in a coupla months. We should go to Hawaii before this season starts.” And just like that, they – and the Aussies – had flights and a condo booked.

It’s never harmful impulsivity. She doesn’t say hurtful things. She’s the most dependable person Lindsey knows. Her emotions are as steady as a rock, at least what she lets on, able to hide the bad. She’s never slept around. But when she wants to be fun, she’s fun in a way Lindsey can’t be because she’s too practical – at least on her own – to buy a weird new food items or book a flight to Hawaii at the last minute. Or to book a flight across the country to see Sonnett, apparently. So she’s lucky really, that Sonnett decided to do it and didn’t think twice about it. 

*****

“I guess I would have tried Uber after Uber until someone wanted to let Bagel in. I mean, look at her face. Someone would have said yes.” Lindsey’s doubtful. “Or maybe I would’ve called Mike eventually.”

Lindsey takes her eyes of the road to look at Sonnett.

“Orrrrrr not. So he doesn’t know?”

“Um, no," Lindsey says carefully.

“Your parents?”

“No.”

“Your friends?” Sonnett asks, and there's a little tinge of hurt in her voice that she can't hide.

“It just hasn’t come up,” Lindsey says, suddenly feeling defensive. And it hasn’t. It’s not like she came back to Denver and saw her friends and was like, Oh, by the way, I- what? – kissed a woman? Slept with a woman? Have a girlfriend? Because she doesn’t know what they are. And she didn’t deny it to the most important people in their lives, she just ignored them. Everyone knows that when you plead the 5th, it’s because you’re guilty. So it’s not like people don’t suspect that they finally decided that the friends and only friends forever thing wasn’t working for them.

They’ve done a really bad job of talking about things really. A date on a playground. They kissed. Then they fucked. But they never defined what they were. Just some cheesy singing and a one-liner about it not being a one-night stand. Those things do not a relationship make. They talked more about how much they were going to miss each other. And then about how much they did miss each other. It was both the easiest, most natural thing that either had ever done, and yet, if they stopped to examine it, the most ill-defined. Except for them, it seemed to be naturally defined. Assumed. But it was because there was no uncomfortableness between them. Going 0 to 60 seemed perfectly normal because they both knew it was what they had wanted all along. It just took 111 days apart for either of them to be willing to admit it. So instead of talking about it, they settled for phone sex, because they didn’t know when they’d see each other again and because neither one was prepared for the emotional complications of having sex and then being apart indefinitely. The tension that had built up over the years spilled over the line. They couldn’t help it. They didn’t want to help it. And now, without ever talking about it, Sonnett’s flown across the country to see her. 

And it’s too much, Sonnett thinks, now that it’s too late to take it back. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, such a romantic gesture. 

And it’s absolutely perfect, Lindsey thinks. Always supposed to be this easy. It makes her regret that she didn’t have the balls to fly cross-country and surprise Sonnett herself.

“Interesting. It’s the first thing I said when I saw Emma.” 

“What exactly did you say?” Lindsey asks, because she really wants to know how Sonnett defined them.

“Linds and I are together. But it really went more like _Lindsey and I are together ohmygod can you believe it_ and then there was a lot of excited screaming and jumping up and down and questions and yeah.”

 _Together_. “I um…” Lindsey feels a mix of sadness and embarrassment that she didn’t have a moment like that with anyone.

“It’s ok. You don’t have to tell people til you’re ready.”

“It’s not that…”

“Seriously. It’s ok. No one needs to know I’m here.”

“Sonnett.” Lindsey takes her hand and squeezes it. “Together, like _together_ together? Like you’re my girlfriend?”

Sonnett scrunches her eyebrows at Lindsey, at the fact that that’s even a question. “I mean…” she stars, suddenly doubting herself.

“Oh, thank God. I didn’t know what this was to you.”

“I told you, I don’t do one-night stands,” Sonnett scoffs.

Lindsey pops out her phone in the elevator of her building to take pictures of them together, the desire to document this taking over, so she never forgets. So she has the photos to look at when they’re apart. They take cute ones, standing side-by-side, one holding hands, one with Sonnett blowing a raspberry into Lindsey’s neck and Lindsey’s laugh lines showing, one of Sonnett kissing her cheek. One of Lindsey’s kissing her forehead. 

“She barks. A lot,” Sonnett warns as they walk down the hall to Lindsey’s condo. “She likes dogs, I swear, it just takes her a minute.”

“He barks a lot, too, so the neighbors are gonna be super excited,” Lindsey laughs like she doesn’t really care.

The introduction is a nightmare of barking and growling and Fergy running back and forth like an intruder has entered his space and he’s half afraid and thinks he should hide, and half big enough to defend his mom and his home. 

“This one or this one?” Lindsey asks later, sitting down on the couch next to Sonnett. “This one,” Sonnett says, picking the picture of them kissing that Lindsey took as soon as the door to her place had shut, amidst all the crazy dog barking. “For what?”

“To share on my stories.” Sonnett wriggles her eyebrows. “Close friends.” Like that wasn’t obvious. “I’m not trying to hide you, Son. I want people to know you’re here.”

“Oh, I just thought…”

“That I’m ashamed? That I’m not sure? That I was just going to be your secret long-distance girlfriend?”

“I dunno. Yeah?” Sonnett says uncomfortably, tucking her hands into her sleeves. “Maybe?” Secret long-distance girlfriend doesn’t sound _too_ bad.

“Sonny. I want all our people to know.”

 _She wants people to know_. It’s a start. “You do?”

“Yeah. I don’t want the world to know, but- ”

Sonnett leans in and kisses her.

“I want my family to know, too,” Lindsey says against her lips.

“K so maybe the other one if it’s for people to see. I didn’t know the purpose when you asked.” It’s cute that Sonnett is ok with everyone knowing, but not knowing everything about them. “So I can post my airport selfie?”

“Of course you can.”

Sonnett chooses a picture of her carrying Bagel on the tarmac. You can just barely make out the mountains in the background. She leaves the private jet out, deciding that's too much. Lindsey chooses the picture of Sonnett kissing her cheek. Their captions are stupidly similar at first: “We here!” (geotagged to Denver Intl. in case anyone has any doubts) and “She’s here!” so Lindsey deletes hers and reposts with “Best. Surprise. Ever.”

“You mean it?” Sonnett asks when she sees the caption.

“Are you kidding? What kind of question is that? I get to have you in my bed tonight.”

“Every night,” Sonnett reminds her.

“Gonna text my mom, so my family can meet my girlfriend.”

“They’ve already met me, silly.”

“But it’s different now. Now, Mike and my dad are going to give you a hard time and my mom’s going to hug you a lot more” Lindsey predicts.

 **Lindsey** : When can we all have dinner?

 **Mike** : Thursday’s good.

 **Mom** : Fine with us, you know we’re free all the time. What do you want?

 **Lindsey** : Taco salad

 **Mike** : Ribs

 **Mom** : I’ll let your dad break the tie.  
Game night after?

 **Lindsey** : Sure. Set an extra place.

 **Mike** : Linds, you’ve been back like 3 weeks. Seriously?

 **Lindsey** : What?

 **Mike** : Just move out of that place so you don’t see him all the time and don’t tell him where you moved and change your number and just forget the loser.

 **Mom** : Michael, be nice.

 **Mike** : That was the nice version.

 **Lindsey** : I’m not bringing Russell.

 **Mike** : Good because I wasn’t gonna come.   
Who then?

 **Lindsey** : You’ll see Thursday.  
Love you both!

“We’re having dinner with my family on Thursday.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Lindsey snuggles under the blanket next to Sonnett. “I told you, you’re not a secret.”

“K, but you don’t have to prove it.”

But Lindsey does think she has to prove it. She takes Sonnett with her to all her workouts and isn’t shy about smacking her on the ass in front of her trainers. She rests her hand on Sonnett’s knee under the table where they sit outside her favorite coffee shop, which isn’t that obvious, but it’s still kind of a big deal. Her friends are treated to more stories of Sonnett than of Fergy. And she doesn’t falter when she walks into her childhood home, her fingers laced with Sonnett’s – despite Sonnett’s protest – and doesn’t say a word, acting like it’s the most normal thing ever that they’re together.

* * *

Their time together is precious, and Lindsey spends it soaking in every bit of Sonny. She thought she knew everything there was to know about her best friend. After four years, that was an obvious assumption, but soon, she discovers there so much more to uncover. There, in the dark, she learns…

…there’s a spot on Emily’s left hip where she’s ticklish beyond belief. Lindsey’s lips there drive her crazy. Even Lindsey’s breath, ever so light, can make her whine and squirm. And when she presses her thumb into that spot as she spreads Emily’s legs apart, Emily always arches up off the bed and into her mouth.

… not every lesbian uses a strap-on and talking about it makes Emily uncomfortable. They bury themselves under the covers looking at them online like they’re teens having to hide from their parents. A discreetly packaged hot pink dildo sneaks in amongst their incessant Amazon purchases.

…Emily’s tongue and fingers are so magically confident, until dirty things spill out of Lindsey’s mouth and into the silence, describing what she wants to do next. Then, Emily falters, and it always takes her a moment to catch her breath and refocus.

… she has to tease sounds out of Emily. Her bravado was always an act. She’s shy and self-conscious when she’s stripped down and vulnerable.

… that if she teases Emily enough, takes things slowly even though that’s hard for her, she can make Emily beg and that – that leaves Lindsey sopping wet.

… the sound of the whooshing of Emily’s heartbeat when Lindsey drapes her naked body over her girlfriend’s – sweaty, sticky, hot – and drifts in and out of consciousness against her chest, is the most comforting sound she’s heard since her mom sang her to sleep as a child. It’s loud enough and reassuring enough to drown out any worries before they can even start to creep into Lindsey’s mind.

She learns things in the daytime, too. Like...

... Emily is self-conscious when Lindsey watches her, naked in the bathroom after, in bed in the morning when the light begins to bleed in through the curtains, when she gets up to put her clothes back on. The blush those stares bring make Emily even prettier. 

... her favorite place to be kissed is behind her ear, and she really doesn’t hate Lindsey’s feet on her at all. 

... he sticks her tongue out and squints when she’s really concentrating, as she works to install all the floating shelves that Lindsey bought for her condo and never put up herself, and as she browses the nursery trying to find the perfect plants to brighten up Lindsey’s space. 

... she’s not just good at drawing; she can paint, too. Lindsey gets an abstract trio of wall panel canvases out of a spontaneous Amazon purchase. 

... all Lindsey has to do is walk around her condo naked and Emily will stop whatever she’s doing – working out, cooking, watching TV – and take her right back to the bedroom. She burned the bacon one morning because of Lindsey. It almost would have been funny if it hadn’t been too hot to leave the balcony door open all day.

She learns more about herself than she ever thought she would.

She’s more confident than she knew. More sexual. 

She likes the sense of power she feels when she makes Emily come. When she can make Emily moan and arch and grip the sheets, or even better, grab a fistful of her hair.

She hated having him in her condo, it always left her on edge, uncomfortable sitting on her own couch, even. She always chalked that up to being the kind of person who needed space. Having Emily there shows her she doesn’t need it. At all. Not when the right person is with her 24/7 in a never-ending pandemic.

But while she doesn’t want to be alone anymore, she learns she’s strong enough to be.

Every time she broke up with him, she’d feel an immediate sense of relief, like she was getting herself back. And then, she’d eventually start panicking about being alone. She always went back to him because she didn’t think she could handle being by herself for too long. In truth, she was always strong enough to be by herself. She doesn't realize it until Sonnett pats the bed beside her as Lindsey steps out of the shower. 

“Vlatko called.”

The words are barely off Emily’s lips when Lindsey gets that sinking feeling in her stomach. She immediately grabs her phone of the nightstand. She doesn’t have any missed calls. The panic rises into her throat as she realizes it’s not about a national team camp. And that means it can’t be good. They’re almost conditioned to expect bad news, so it’s easy for her mind to go somewhere dark.

“He encouraged me to go play in Europe. He said I don’t have to. But… Tony helped him find a team in Sweden that will sign me.” Lindsey’s throat tightens and she can’t speak. “It’s nice there supposedly,” she continues, almost like she’s trying to convince herself, “and they’re top of the table. It’s the team Pressy played for.”

Lindsey looks at her, and it’s so obvious that she’s trying to hold it together. Like always, she’s doing a pretty good job. Lindsey finally drops down on the bed next to her. Emily’s hand finds hers and it’s warm and soft and comforting like it always is. Lindsey immediately feels guilty for needing to be comforted.

“I- I- I need to keep my spot. And it’s not like it’s forever. Just til November. Hopefully. Hopefully I don’t have to go back…” her voice trails off at the realization that she _might_ have to go back for part of the 2021 season. “It’s not that long, really. Less time than we were apart already.”

“And if the NWSL gets a season together after all, you’d be back in Florida anyway. It’s not like we’d get to play each other anyway,” Lindsey says, trying to be positive, surprising even herself. 

“Yeah. It’s like I’m never going to play in Portland again,” Emily’s voice cracks, and Lindsey grasps how Emily she still is about the trade, the quarantine and time together almost letting them forget. Emily looks up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. She can’t decide if the universe is trying to protect her from playing in the city she called her second home her entire professional career or if it’s just one more way 2020 is screwing her, forcing them apart again.

“Want me to keep Bagel while you’re gone?” Lindsey offers, trying to be helpful.

“Are you crazy? She’ll destroy your place every time you leave to go to the stadium.”

“I mean, maybe she won’t. And her and Fergy are such good friends now.” They both chuckle at how poorly their initial interaction went. And how after the third night, they slept together on the same bed, only to wake up in the morning and hate each other all over again. That repeated for another week before they finally liked each other in the daylight hours too. “They’re kinda like us, you know,” Lindsey grins, “not too sure about each other at first, didn’t really get along, but now they’re inseparable.”

“Just like us, Emily agrees. “We’ll see.” 

Emily flops back on the bed and Lindsey follows suit. “They gonna fly you on a private jet to Sweden?” she laughs. Emily punches her shoulder. “Ow!” Lindsey whines. “My pj girl didn’t last for too long, huh?”

Emily threatens to punch her again, but Lindsey kisses her instead. Finally, Emily pulls away. “Might as well fly commercial back to Atlanta and hope everyone’s wearing a mask. There’s really no point anymore. If I’m gonna get it, I’m gonna get it,” she says with a sigh.

Lindsey lies there facing her, trying to brush a stray strand of hair behind Emily’s ear that just won’t stay. “I don’t think I can stand dropping you off at the airport,” she says, finally starting to break as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“Oh, come on, Linds. That’s like taking your dog to be put to sleep and saying you can’t stay in the room.”

“What the fuck kind of comparison is that!” Lindsey shakes her head in disbelief. “You really just compared yourself to a dog about to be put down.”

They both break out into fits of giggles. 

“You gonna be ok here without me? I mean, you’re gonna have to go back to cooking for yourself again, and we all know how that goes…” Emily teases her.

“Hey! Only one of us burned something lately,” Lindsey reminds her, and shuts her up with another kiss when she starts to argue that the incident was Lindsey’s fault. “I want you on that Olympic roster. We’re going to do whatever we have to to make that happen,” Lindsey says with conviction. She reaches up and caresses Emily’s face until Emily looks at her again. “I love you, baby. And I’ve never been to Sweden. You think maybe I can come visit you?”

Emily sniffles a little through a smile. “I’d like that.”

“You still owe me that dance,” Lindsey reminds her. “Not letting you go until I get it.” And it’s stupid, really, she knows, because she doesn’t even like dancing, but she doesn’t want to miss out on the chance to dance with Emily.

“Well you are in luck, ma’am, because while I am an excellent hip hop dancer, I am an even better slow dancer. I will dance with you every night until I leave.”

“Promise?” Lindsey asks.

“Promise. Let’s start now.”

Lindsey stares into her eyes for a beat before getting up, and that's all she needs to know that they're going to be fine with an ocean between them, with months of resorting to FaceTime all over again, because she knows those eyes and the woman behind them.


End file.
